Iowa Cave People

It was only a 10 x 12 foot square, 7 rickety stairs leading down from the back yard sidewalk. The cave. It consisted of a sloped door from the sidewalk sloping up and hinged to the right side. Open that door and the wooden steps led down to the cavern where it was always damp and musty and cool. Shelves lined the north and back wall of the cave, and the roof was an arch of bricks. Outside the ground was mounded in the same configuration but covered with soil and grass. At the west end of this “hill” was a chimney of brick that supposedly let fresh air to the cave.

The cave was a necessary part of the prairie farm. Few homes had basements and tornadoes were always possible. Farm wives treasured the space to keep canned goods, store potatoes, pumpkins, kraut, and all sorts of needed groceries. Momma canned everything that grew, even chickens and beef. The colors of the jars of beets, green beans, peaches, strawberries, corn—it was an artist’s dream. Of course there were spider webs and spiders, a few toads, and even a lizard now and then. Never mind. They were more scared of you than you were of them. This was true, because Momma said so!

And there were those days in spring that were too warm and too windy. One knew down in the pit of one’s being that this was a storm day. One didn’t need to listen to Warren Neilson on KMA radio to track the storm. Still we did. The big Philco radio sputtered and crackled with static as Warren took calls into his studio about the approaching storm. People out in Nebraska, or down in Missouri, or the western edges of the state telling of gathering trouble. We worried. We got kind of excited about the upcoming drama. It might rain. We always needed rain and welcomed it. We got to looking forward to whatever was happening! Mrs. De Camp in Nebraska City phoned in a one-inch rain fall with lightning strikes all over town. We looked west, and yes, there was a thunderhead cloud over that way with lightning in the base of it! Good! The air was hot and sticky even in the wind! Momma told us to stay close as she went to shut up the chickens, and ran into the house to close the windows there. Daddy came in from the fields to do chores. Then the wind died.

We were suspended between “not normal” and the storm. When the wind picked up again it was coming from the east, not the south west as it had all day. It had a different texture and feel to it. Maybe a hint of cool? Now the trees were twisting up high and the leaves were coming down scattering all around us. There was a terrible roar of thunder! and big blops of rain. Not drops, huge blops. Daddy was looking to the west and quietly told us to get down in the cave now. We did. Shivering, teeth chattering in the cooling breeze, in excitement and dread. Once down there Momma took the big old damp candle and a match she kept in her jacket pocket and tried to light the candle to little effect. Even lighted it gave off a very frail light, but it was better than nothing. We kept flash lights down in the cave, but they scarcely ever lit. Daddy had his ax. If trees and buildings blew down over the cave door, we’d need an ax to get us out of there. We shivered harder thinking of that possibility! We begged Daddy to come down and take shelter with us, but Daddy had to stand there on the stairs, and raise the cave door enough to see the storm happen.

It hit with a roar of wind and crashing of thunder, and whoosh and crash of trees falling and branches flailing. We hung on to each other tightly, scarcely breathing! Then in the terrible noise there were voices! Yes, it sounded like human conversation shouted out there. Did you hear it? There is something or somebody out there! What was that?! And Daddy held the door up a bit more.

A sickly yellowish light out doors showed sheets of rain and branches flying and two strange figures right outside our cave. Two ungainly things with no shape we could recognize. They had coats on and had them pulled up over their heads to keep the storm off. It was Grandma and Grandpa from a quarter of a mile up the road. They had no cave at their home, so often came to ours running across the pasture as the storm broke. Here they were now soaked through to the skin.

“Here get down here and be safe with us!” we cried.

Grandma explained, “We struck out as soon as we saw the cloud, but not fast enough! It is blowing awful hard. I don’t think the buildings are damaged yet, and I saw no gates blown away. This is a big storm though!”

And we continued to wait and listen to the storm when suddenly Grandma said, “Oh, Paw! We have to get back and shut up the baby chickens! I never thought to do that before we left! They’ll get drowned if we don’t get them inside!”

‘“No, no! You can’t go out in that storm again!” we pleaded. Stay here till it lets up some!” But Grandma wasn’t deterred. She gathered up her skirts at her knees and up the steps she rushed with Grandpa right at he heels. Daddy opened the door and they burst forth into the storm. Daddy cursed softly under his breath. “I guess you may as well go as well”, he said. “It looks like it’s letting up a bit.”

So back up those rickety steps we went out in the pouring rain to our own back porch where we shook our hair out and brushed off our dresses. Then we went the usual way into the usual rooms and the usual stuff sitting there like there hadn’t been any storm at all. It was very hot inside the house, and Momma went opening windows and the doors to let the cool air in. She told us to put on our pajamas and get out of the wet clothes. She was going to look after the chickens and so forth. Daddy had gone to do the rest of the evening chores and see to Grandma and Grandpa. Momma made sandwiches and we drank milk because with no electricity (and there was none) we had no water either (electric pumps). Soon Daddy and Momma were back finished with their work. No real damage had been done. A heck of a good rain it was thought. Grandma and Grandpa had the chickens secured and they themselves were sound asleep in bed. We laughed at their sudden departure to tend to their chickens. Of all the crazy things to do!

And it was over, and still early. Still Bonnie and I went to bed exhausted. The first storm of the summer, and we had survived it—this time, and would again and again and again over the years. Never a time we weren’t afraid and aware of our danger. Never a time there wasn’t a bit of a thrill to the drama of the big storm.

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